


Living Life in Peace?

by 110_Delicious_Angels



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A taste of Peter/MJ, Abused MJ, Alternate Universe - No Sokovia Accords, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I'm Going to Hell, Intern Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker - Freeform, Peter still has his pajama suit at the beginning, Precious Peter Parker, Stark internship, but that's ok, moderate to severe angst, spiderman - Freeform, spiderman homecoming au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:29:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15835671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/110_Delicious_Angels/pseuds/110_Delicious_Angels
Summary: In which, everything is the same except the Sokovia Accords never existed, told from the point of view of Peter Parker's 3rd person.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be short unless I really run with the idea, I don't know. I guess it remains to be seen.

"Peter, you're going to be late!" May called through the thin bedroom door.

The still half-asleep boy groaned, turning to his alarm clock next to his bed. It blinked a menacing _7:47_.

His eyes flew open and he fell out of be gracelessly. Sliding into the kitchen in his socks mere minutes later, his Aunt May gave him a to-go cup full of hot tea. "Have fun today, Petey."

"Thanks, you too Aunt May!" Slipping his shoes on quickly, he ran out the door and down the long, dimly lit staircase.

"Watch where you're going!" an older man half snapped at the boy as he slipped past.

"Sorry, Mr. Dela Rosa!" Peter called over his shoulder. His feet hit the bottom of the stairs and in a moment, he was on the streets of New York, just another rushed commuter in the enigma-like masses swarming the side walks. In minutes, he was at the bus station. He checked his watch, while dodging people at a sprint. _7:56_. "I cannot be late again," he muttered urgently under his breath.

When he finally broke through the crowd of people at his terminal, he found that the bus had not yet left. Relief eased his mind as he stepped through the steely doorway and to one of the very few empty seats left. He crashed onto the small plastic bench between two strangers and let out a sigh.  _That had been close._

A mere moment later, another person boarded the bus, looking for a seat. The woman was maybe 25, if Peter had to guess, and heavily pregnant. Looking around, the pair noticed that all the seats were taken and she'd be forced to stand. 

Peter stood. "Here, you can have my seat, I'm only a couple stops away anyway," he said between his still ragged breathes. 

"Thank you," she smiled warmly and took the now unoccupied seat. 

"Of course," Peter smiled. 

Ned always made fun of his nature to help people like this. He recalls one day, after offering to take care of Mr. Delanore's cat while he went to visit his family in Honduras, Ned turning to him and saying, "Wow Peter, you're the kind of person New York needs. If you were a superhero, your super power would be chivalry."

Ironically, it wasn't long after that exchange that Peter gained his abilities and decided to become Spiderman. 

Around  _8:15_ , Peter along with a handful of other commuters hopped off the bus. He began his walk towards his school, Midtown High School of Technology. 

He was only a few blocks away when he heard cries coming from an alleyway across the street.

"Stop, stop it!" The voice sounded like a kid's, no more then eight or nine and fearful.

Peter checked his watch again  _8:23_. He only had seven minutes to walk three blocks then to his class, but this took priority. He was just about the jump in when he remembered he wasn't wearing his suit. That meant a significant change in tactics.

He dropped his bag on the sidewalk and dashed across the busy street and to the alley entrance. When Peter peaked in, he saw a kid with sandy hair on the ground in a tight ball, protecting his head with his arms. There were three other people there, too, all dressed in black.  _Organized crime?_ he wondered.  _Or maybe just smarter muggers._

Peter took a deep breathe and stepped out from behind the corner. "Hey guys, how about we leave the poor, defenseless kid alone?" 

Maybe it was just his imagination, but his voice sounded different when he wore the suit. Not necessarily in the noise itself, but the tone seemed more confident, like he was someone you had to listen to.

The first guy (who stood at least six inches higher than Peter) turned to face him. Upon seeing Peter, he scoffed, not looking intimidated in the least. "Beat it, kid. This isn't your fight."

The other two backed off the kid, too, and Peter could hear the boy's quiet whimpering. The trio turned to start in on the boy again.

"Actually, I think I'll step in, if it's all the same to you," Peter replied with a small smirk.

"You want to take his place then?"

Peter's eyes narrowed and smirked knowingly. "Yeah, I do."

Number One stood up to his full hight, cracking his knuckles aggressively as he approached. He swung his right in a wide hook, but Peter dodged it easily and returned with a swift blow to the throat. The man doubled over, hands gripping his throat and gasped loudly. The other two seemed a bit apprehensive but they were still stupid enough to approach. Ducking low, Peter kicked Number Two's feet out from under him, his head colliding with the ground with a loud  _crack_. Peter hoped he doesn't have lasting damage. He turns to face Number Three, but the tall man is already in motion. His left fist connects with Peter's right eye, knocking him back a pace, but he recovers and takes out his final combatant.

He turned to the kid still lying on the ground who was watching him with a innocent kind of wonder. 

"Hey kiddo," Peter said, crouching down to him. "You okay? Can you stand up?" The poor kid tried but stumbles and cries out. That's when Peter noticed the boy's left knee was bent out of shape. "Hey hey hey, how about you sit down. Looks like your leg is broken. I'll need to get you to a hospital, okay?"

The kid doesn't respond when Peter picks him up and slings him over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. Together, they walk to the hospital only a few blocks away. When they reach the emergency room, Peter explains to the receptionist how he found the boy with the hurt leg after three older men, all in black, beat him up. 

After giving a description of the suspects, Peter excuses himself and makes his way back to school. He checked his watch again.  _8:58_. He was late after all. Peter quietly opens the door to his Physics class, and files into the back of the room, trying to go unnoticed by the teacher. No such luck.

"You're late again, Parker," The teacher at the front of the room called to him. "One more time this semester and I'll have to-" She finally looks up at him and stops abruptly. "What happened to your eye?"

 _Oh man, it must have started bruising. This is going to be a hard one to explain._ "Tripped over a curb this morning, I'll be fine."

Now more students were turning their heads to look at him.  _Great, more attention._  

He quickly found his seat and let out a sigh, pinning the bridge of his nose to help ease his oncoming headache.

"Alright class, as I was saying," The teacher continued.

 

His classes came and went, some seemingly quicker than others. Lunch came and Peter slid into his normal spot in the cafeteria next to Ned (and Michelle, but they didn't really talk to her too much.) When Ned saw his face, he did a double take and quickly sat down next to Peter.

"Dude, what happened to your eye?" he asked.

"Tripped over a curb this morning, it's no big deal," Peter replied.

"Did you get the nurse to check it out?"

"No, it's not that bad. But I  _have_  been getting a lot of strange looks from people because of it."

Ned smirked. "You should make up a badass story about it, like 'you took on a gang trying to beat up some kid and narrowly escaped' or something like that."

Peter balked internally. "Wouldn't that be something? Anyway, Aunt May is out for work tonight, want to come over and watch a movie?"

"What movies do you have that we haven't seen a million times?" Ned pondered.

"How about an 80's movie? Like  _Back to the Future_ or  _The Breakfast Club_?" 

"I can bring _F_ _erris Bueller's Day_ _Off_! My mom just got it on dvd last week," Ned suggested eagerly.

"Yeah, that sounds good." He looked across the table where Michelle sat a few feet away, obviously listening to their conversation while reading a biography of Robert F. Kennedy. Before really thinking about it, he turned to her and said, "You can come too if you want, Michelle."

She looked up quickly, eyebrows raised, and around to Ned, who was also looking at Peter with a similar surprised expression. "Uh, sure, I've got nothing going on. What's the time and address?"

Peter quickly gave it to her, almost taken aback. He hadn't really expected her to take the offer. She typed the address into her phone and turned back to her book. As soon as she did, Peter got an elbow in the ribs from Ned. "Ow, what was that for?" He hissed.

"Why did you invite Michelle?" Ned whisper-yelled in typical Ned fashion.

"I don't know, I felt bad making plans together with her just sitting there!"

Ned rolled his eyes. "Dammit, Peter. You're too nice. Can't you just be rude and selfish like everyone else in this city?"

Peter grinned a bit and they began debating  _Star Wars_ themes until the bell cut them short. The rest of the day seemed to drag on and on (who knew three hours could be so long?) In Chemistry, Peter's teacher gave them a pop quiz on the Periodic Table of Elements which he passed with flying colors. His English teacher assigned them with an essay, no less then 5,000 words about their hero. And finally, his AP Calculus teacher lectured them on derivatives. When the bell finally rang, Peter rushed for the door, trying to avoid the wave of students in an equal hurry to leave the building. 

Half running, half walking, he found an empty alleyway where he changed into his suit. He quickly climbed the tall brick wall and slung his heavy grey back pack over the edge of the roof. Hopefully no one would think to look there if they were in search of a back pack full of heavy textbooks and school work. Asking Aunt May for yet another one would garner unwanted questions.

Peter pulled on his high red boots and slipped his hood over the ski mask with a small grin. He could feel any worry lift off his shoulders. This was always the best part of his day.

He jumped from the rooftop he was standing on to the next one over, running when his feet touched the ground to build momentum. He sprung from rooftop to rooftop, gaining speed as he reached the heart of the world's ninth largest city. 

His afternoon was spent patrolling Midtown, eventually making his way to Queens. He had successfully stopped a weak attempt at an ATM robbery, climbed a tree to get some little girl's cat, and saved a distracted pedestrian from getting run down by a particularly aggressive taxi driver. All in all, a full day of helping people out.

 

Around 4:45, Peter slipped in through the unlocked window of his room and changed back into his clothes and played out his homework. He decided to start it after Ned and Michelle left.

He left his room to the cozy kitchen where a note away on the counter next to a twenty dollar bill. It read  _'Peter- I'll be out working late again tonight. Get yourself some takeout_ _. -May :)'_

Peter quickly tidied up the living room and before long came a knock on the door. "One sec," he called, throwing a single sock behind the couch quickly. At the door stood Michelle, still wearing her school bag, biography under her arm. Peter noticed the bookmark was significantly deeper in the book then it had been at lunch time. "Hey Michelle, come on in."

She nodded and silently. Looking around, she lightly commented "Nice place."

It wasn't a snide comment, similar to the one he'd grown accustomed to receive from her. For the second time that day, she'd surprised him. Maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought he did. "Thanks. Have you eaten anything yet?"

"No, I came straight from school. You don't have to get me anything though, it's fine."

He ignored her proposal and asked "Why were you at school so late? I didn't forget Decathlon today, did I?"

"No, I was in detention."

"You got detention?"

"No."

Jesus, she was hard to read. A complete mystery. "Okay. So what do you like on your pizza?"

She looked a little uneasy. "You really don't have to get anything for me, Peter."

"Well, I haven't eaten yet and Ned's always up for pizza so I really must insist."

Michelle smiled a little. "Olives and pepperoni."

"You got it."

After the pizza was ordered, awkward silence filled the small apartment.

"So, who are you writing about for your English essay?" Peter asked. God, he was the worst at small talk.

She held up her book. "Bobby Kennedy."

"I don't know much about him," Peter commented. "Why do you look up to him?"

"Well, when his older brother, the famous John F. Kennedy was assassinated, he decided to run for Senate. While he was in office, he proposed a far reaching civil rights movement, worked to end organized crime, advocated for the underprivileged, disabled, poor, et cetera. He also opposed the escalation of the Vietnam War."

"Trying to help out the little guy," Peter commented, a small smirk on his lips. It reminded him a lot of who he aspired to be as Spiderman, but from a much more political standpoint. "I respect that."

Michelle nodded. "Yeah, he really could've made a difference. He began his presidential campaign, but he too was assassinated."

"Oh. That's... too bad."

She snorted. "That's putting it mildly."

Right then, Ned walked in. "Hey guys, you ready to watch a movie?"

 

About halfway through, the only person really watching was Michelle. Ned was on his laptop and Peter working on homework.

"Hey Peter," Ned said, interrupting the young Matthew Broderick. "Stark Industries is looking for interns. There's this online test you have to take to apply, though."

"No way, let me see." He passed his laptop to Peter who pushed aside his textbook and read the description of the role aloud. " 'Interns will help developers in the labs, log data and results for various project tests, and work behind the scenes in Research and Development.' Wow, that sounds so cool!" 

By this point, Michelle had come to sit on Peter's other side to read over his shoulder. "You should take the test," she commented.

"I don't know," Peter balked. "I'm not sure I have what it takes to be a Stark intern."

Michelle rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Peter, you are at the top of all your classes. You have an A in Spanish, for God's sake. Spanish. Besides, what's the worst that can happen? It isn't going to affect anything if you don't pass. I promise I won't parade around the school calling you a loser."

"You kind of do that anyway," Ned interjected.

"Well okay, maybe I will a little, but think of it as incentive to not fail."

Peter let out a calming breathe. "Okay, why not?" He clicked on the test link. 

 _Name:_ Peter Parker

_College:_

"Oh shit, they're only taking college students," Ned sighed. "Oh well, it could've been fun."

"Just make it up, nothing's stopping you," Michelle pressed.

"Which college do you think I should attend?" Peter asked.

"New York University," said Michelle.

"Columbia," said Ned. "They have a great math department."

"True, I'll go with that one."

_College: Columbia University_

_Major: Physics and Mathematics_

_Student ID: 6201334_

Peter just made up a number, really hoping it was valid. 

_Next_

His screen changed, only showing him one question at a time. In the top right hand corner, a time stamp began counting down from thirty minutes.

_Question 1: Imagine there were three boxes of fruits. One was labeled oranges, another apples, the third a mix of the two. Every label is wrong. To find out where each label belongs, you are only allowed to draw one fruit from one of the three boxes. You cannot look in any of the boxes, place your hand in any of the boxes, nor anything else that physically permits you to discover what is in each box. How do you solve this?_

Peter stared blankly at the question for a few moments before answering. It had not been the kind of question he was expecting.

"Ooh, a logic question. That looks fun," Michelle said.

He typed,  _You should draw from the mixed fruit box. If I pull an apple, I'll know that it is the apple box and switch the apple label with the mixed fruit label. This means that the boxes reading oranges is also wrong, since each box is_ _lying, so I would put the mixed fruit label on it and the oranges label on the remaining box._

_Question 2-_

And so he went. The questions ranged from similar logic questions, to a personality portion, as well as maths and sciences. Peter worked hard, his focus unwavering as he answered question after question. He answered the last question and hit  _done_ a mere 10 seconds from the deadline.

Peter leaned back and massaged his temples, then looked back on the screen. At this point, Michelle and Ned had rejoined him at his side after splitting off to watch the movie.

The screen read:  _Your results will be processed and sent to you within 12 hours. Thank you for applying to Stark Industries._

 

The trio finished the movie. Instead of going home, they decided to start a game of monopoly.

"You know, the inventor of Monopoly then called The Landlord's Game, Lizzie Magie, actually invented this game in 1902 to prove how corrupt Capitalism is," Michelle remarked offhandedly as she bought Pennsylvania Avenue.

"Oh well, it is a pretty fun game though," Ned replied. His small figurine landed on Michelle's newly acquired property and he sighed.

"Haha, pay up sucker."

He begrugingly handed her a total of $26 in bright, paper bills.

"Will you need a ride home, Michelle?" Peter asked suddenly. "Ned can walk because he only live a block away, but I don't know where you live. My aunt May can drive you if you need."

"No, it's ok, I can walk."

Peter looked out the window to the darkness outside and frowned. "Are you sure, it's getting late and we don't want you to get jumped," he joked.

"It's fine Peter," she replied simply. "Your turn."

The game continued until Aunt May got home at 10:24. From there, the party split up. Ned and Michelle left together to walk home.

Once the door closed behind them, Aunt May turned to him, a presumptuous look gracing her features. " _So_ Peter, who was she?"

Peter pointed his finger at her. "Now don't be doing that, May. She's just a friend from school."

"What's her name? I didn't know you had friends other then Ned."

"Ouch. And her name is Michelle. She's cool. She usually sits with us at lunch."

"Okay," May rose her hands in mock defense. She turned to the kitchen to where the a few extra pizza slices lay under saran wrap. "You didn't have to get me olive and pepperoni, Peter. I could've had whatever you three were having."

"Oh no, Michelle requested olives," Peter clarified.

May took a piece of cold pizza from the greasy box. "Keep her."

Peter blushed a little, flustered at the insinuation. "Okay, whatever May. I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight, lover boy," she called after him.

"Shut up May," he called back. 

Closing the door to his bedroom, he made the decision to follow Michelle home in the least creepy way possible. He truly just wanted to make sure she wasn't mugged on the way back to her house. He donned the suit quickly and slipped out of his bedroom window as quietly as possible. From his fourth story window, he saw Michelle two blocks down. He crept along the wall, making sure to stay hidden beneath the window line. She walked on for another six blocks east before turning into a quiet suburban street lined with small, almost worn down houses. 

Peter came to a stop on the roof top across from the house and watched as an older man (presumably her dad) got out of a whicker chair on the tiny front porch and started yelling at her. He didn't need his advanced hearing to know what he was saying.

"Where the hell were you, Michelle? You can't just take off and not tell me!"

"I was at a friend's house," she responded quietly. Peter noticed how different she was acting. She wouldn't make eye contact with him and her body language caved inward, as if she was trying to make herself smaller. He figured she was feeling guilty for forgetting to tell him where she was going. 

He grabbed her shoulder and steered her inside.

Peter left after that. He had no reason to stay, and if May went in to check on him and noticed he was gone, there'd be hell to pay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay,
> 
> First off, thank you all for the amazing comments! They've given me a ton of motivation to move forward with this. Second, this probably will end up being a longer fic so stay tuned my lovely readers. Thirdly, school starts in like three days (please let me die) and I have a crazy schedule this year so my updating schedule is going to be whack, but I'll do my best to post every once or twice a week. And finally, sorry for the super short chapter, I'm literally exhausted.
> 
> Thank you all again!

Peter waited all of the following day for his results to come in, but didn't have any luck. At lunch time, he ranted to Ned about it. "I mean, seriously. They said the results would be in within ten hours, it's been like 16 at this point," he remarked once again.

"I know, Peter," Ned replied, trying to calm him down.

"Maybe you didn't pass, or they found out you're in high school so won't accept you. Maybe they don't know how to contact you," Ned pointed out.

Peter put his head in his hands, running his long fingers through his hair and let out a groan. "I know, I know, it's just frustrating."

 

The next day passes, and then another without even a single message from Stark Industries. Peter was starting to lose hope until the afternoon of day three.

"Hey, Mr. Delamar!" Peter exclaimed as he entered _Delmar's Dell-Grocery_. It was congested with tables and customers and smelled like old people and his cat Murph, but Peter loved it almost as much as he did his own home.

"Heya Peter, same as usual?"

"You know me so well," he smirked, flipping a $5 bill on the counter. "So, anything new in these parts?"

"Nah, it's just the same old, same old. My sister threaten to kick my nephew James out of the house if he doesn't move out soon, but you know where that's going to end," Mr. Delmar filled in as he processed Peter's purchase.

"Yeah, it's too bad James decided not to go to college, he's really smart." Just then, the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood and goosebumps raced down his arms. Peter tensed, sensing three people walk through the door. His adept ears pick up on the discreet radio chatter in one of their earpieces, he guessed the one in the middle, the most notable one. Discreetly, Peter found their reflections in the display case's glass. Each of them were wearing standard commission suit and sunglasses. The one in the middle was carrying at least one gun in his waist band on his right hand side.

His mind was racing.  _Who were they? Were they there for him? Did someone figure out_ he _was the city's masked vigilante?_

The one in the middle surveyed the room with a brief but critical eye and found Peter at the register. He started walking up toward him. Peter tensed, ready to defend himself if it was needed.  _He shouldn't keep his suit in his backpack, if they search it they'll know it's him immediately._

The big man puts a hand on Peter's shoulder and says in a no nonsense tone, "Excuse me, Peter Parker?"

Peter turned, trying to conceal his nerves. "That's me."

"We need you to come with us," he said.

"Um..." Peter was at a loss. "Why?"

"It's in regards to the Stark Internship," the man explained without really explaining, but a switch flipped in Peter.

_So they must have found out about the whole college thing, but why does it matter? Couldn't they have just told him over email or something?_

Peter turned back to Mr. Delmar who was watching with one eyebrow raised. "Mr. Delmar, do you mind holding that sandwich for a bit? I'll be back for it."

"Sure thing, Pete."

With that, Peter turned and followed the men in suits to a stretch limousine. He hesitated before getting in.  _Was this really the best idea?_ But curiosity took the wheel and Peter got in.  _Woah_. He'd never been in a limo before.

"Um, excuse me sir," Peter said tentatively to the man. The other two were in the front driving. "Am I in some kind of trouble?"

The man took off his sunglasses and extended a hand. _Wow, these guys are so extra._  "Happy Hogan." Peter shook. "And no, Mr. Parker. You are not in trouble, I'll have Norman explain it to you when we get to the tower." 

"The tower?" Peter asked. He almost gasped. "Are we going to  _the_ Stark Tower?"

Happy nodded. "It's where most of the labs are located, along with the intern center."

Peter could hardly contain himself. He was going to  _the_ Stark Tower. Where  _Iron Man_ lived. Maybe he would actually see Tony Stark, in person. The mere thought made him squirm with delight. The vehicle came to a stop and Happy got out, holding the door for Peter.

He got out, still wearing his backpack and one of his dark blue math pun tee shirts under a flannel. The Tower loomed above him, but he didn't find it's presence overwhelming. He saw it as a prospect, like how an aspiring astronaut would view the stars.

He followed Happy to the doors where Happy touched a sensor pad on the doorframe with his palm. An automated voice replied, "Happy Hogan, level 10 access. Welcome back."

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," Happy replied, opening the one of the steel plated doors for the much younger man. As Peter stepped into they foyer, his jaw dropped. He had never seen ceiling so high. The vast amounts of advanced technology being used around the room made him feel like a kid at Disneyland. 

Happy went to the main desk, Peter following close in his tracks. After saying a word to one of the receptionists, a tall man with deeply red hair and freckles, they went to an elevator. Happy hit the button reading 25 and the doors closed.

"Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y., is Norman available?" Happy said. At first, Peter thought Happy had lost his mind, but a voice answered back.

"Yes he is, would you like me to send him a message?" The voice replied coolly.

"Yes, can you tell him I've brought Peter?"

"Right away, Mr. Hogan."

Peter's couldn't stop grinning. "Can I try," Mr. Hogan?" He asked.

"Just call me Happy, and sure you can, kid."

"Thanks," he replied. Then, "F.R.I.D.A.Y.?"

"Yes, Peter Parker?"

"Woah, how does you know my name?" Peter asked.

"I know the names of everyone who steps foot in here. It's one of my primary functions."

"That's amazing. Which floor is your favorite?"

"I was created on floor 32, so I guess I'm partial to that one."

The doors opened and Peter bade farewell to the A.I. as the he and Happy stepped through the elevator doors. Twenty feet in front of them was another desk where college age students sat working on laptops. Just as they were about to reach it, a balding man with dark brown hair and a clean lab coat walked up to them and shook hands with each. 

"Hello. My name is Norman Osborn, I run the internships department here at Stark Industries. I presume you are Peter Parker?" A lump formed in Peter's throat as he nodded, that same feeling of nervousness from Mr. Delmar's returning to him. "Well, it is good to meet you, we have much to discuss. come with me."

Norman waved after Happy as the big man got back in the elevator.

They walked together to a conference room just off the beginning of the hallway. Norman closed the door behind him and took a seat, urging Peter to do the same. He did, rather gracelessly.

"So Peter," Norman started. "You and I both know you are not a college student. You've never attended Columbia University. So why did you decided to fill out the application, knowing that you were breaking the rules as well as taking a test meant for people with a significantly higher education level then you. What made you decide to do it?"

"Well, I just wanted to try it out. I was with my friends and they suggested I take it because what was the worst that could happen? It was fun, too. It was really a challenge," Peter responded truthfully. "I go to Midtown Tech, and even though it's a good school, I'm still not as challenged as I could be."

Norman nodded slowly. "And how do you think you did on the test?"

Peter shrugged. "I have no idea. Honestly, it was just a blur."

"Anyway, here's your results." Norman slid him a plain manilla envelope from across the grey tabletop. Peter opened it and took out the page inside. In large letters, it read  _Overall score: 80/80, 100%_. "I had to print it out because we are almost completly paperless, but that's it right there. You know, when Mr. Stark and I created that test, we doubted that even a gifted college student would be able to pass it, but not only did you, a sophomore in high school pass it, but you, a sophomore in high school aced it."

Peter was stunned into silence. 

"So that is the reason I'm extending my offer to you. I believe that one day, you will make a difference, Mr. Parker. You have a brilliant mind. Do you accept?"

Peter spluttered. "Absolutely, yes!"

"Excellent. Now, let's talk about scheduling..."

 

After a tour in which Peter kept geeking out (to Norman's amusment), they went to the eighteenth floor to register Peter for his ID.

"Now Peter, if you misplace your ID in the tower, you can ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. to look around to try to find it, but if you misplace it outside of the Tower, it's up for grabs. A lot of people will want to be able to have a level 4 access here, so whatever you do, keep it close."

Peter nodded. He met Happy again in the lobby and was escorted back to Delmar's Dell-Grocery. 

"Where'd you go, kid?" Mr. Delmar asked.

"I got accepted for an internship at Stark Industries," Peter cried, adrenalin still coursing through his system.

Mr. Delmar smiled widely. "Good for you, Peter."


End file.
